


Birthday Blast

by vulpineTrickster



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Light Snogging, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpineTrickster/pseuds/vulpineTrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Food. Fun. Family. Friends. Fireworks. What more could America need on his birthday? Hmm, a certain Briton sure comes to mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Blast

**Author's Note:**

> **HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY, EVERYONE!!!!!!**
> 
> Originally, I wrote this two years for America's 235th birthday and posted it on FF.net, so I decided to share it on AO3 since I didn't have anything else prepared ^^;; I had to tweak some words around and change Al's age before posting, lol.
> 
> (F.Y.I. - Bruce is Australia and Mathias is Denmark)
> 
> Disclaimer: Axis Powers Hetalia, its characters, and its franchise belong to Himaruya Hidekaz.
> 
> **_DO NOT COPY OR DUPLICATE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!!!!!_ **
> 
> * * *

"CANNONBALL!"

England amusingly watches from his room's open window when America jumps off the diving board and belly-flops into the pool, succeeding in thoroughly soaking everyone within reach. Romano starts screeching in his native tongue as Spain holds him back, Switzerland is about ready to shoot someone, and most of the girls—and Poland—send murderous glares at their host for interrupting their sunbathing. America just flashes them a Hollywood smile as he climbs out of the pool.

"Guess I put too much force into that one," the soaked nation leisurely laughs, running a hand through his wet bangs.

England chuckles lightly, taking a sip of brandy while watching everyone yell and berate the smiling blond. America manages to escape unscathed from the tongue-lashing and saunters over to two large grills, manned by Prussia, who insists that his barbeque skills are 'totally awesome', and South Korea, who boasts barbequing originated from him. Thankfully, Canada stands by with a fire extinguisher just in case anything—or anyone—accidentally catches fire.

The party is in full swing with nearly every nation possible occupying the vast backyard on such a warm and sunny day. This year, America decided to open up one of his modernly-upgraded estates for his birthday bash since it is big enough to accommodate at least forty people easy. On the morning of his birthday, he completely decorated the large dwelling with steamers, balloons, and those cute mini-flags imaginable; he even rented out a neon sign to hang above the front door, flashing the words 'Happy Birthday!' in red, white, and blue. Not only is the manor crammed with colorful garlands, the refrigerator and pantry are stocked with hamburgers, hot dogs, chicken wings, chips and dip, candy, cake, ice-cream, cookies, sodas, beer, and everything else people eat during the fourth of July; it took England forever to find one box of tea within the jam-packed clutter of artery-clogging food. Also, aside from the food America bought, some nations took it upon themselves to bring a few dishes they like as opposed to eating whatever the birthday boy cooked up. England shudders at the thought of all of the leftovers he is probably going to have to dispose of— _God forbid I let Al eat it all._

Downing the rest of his drink, the Briton retreats away from the window and back to the desk to fix another tumbler of liquor. With all the fun his boyfriend is having, he certainly would overlook England's absence during the merriment. Glass in hand, the island nation makes himself comfortable on the spacious four-poster bed and picks up his worn copy of The Once and Future King. He is halfway through Lancelot's inebriated affair with Elaine when a knock at the door makes him look up. Before he can give a welcome of entry, a twist of the knob and the creak of the hinges cuts him off.

"So this is where you're hidin', Artie," America says, casually crossing the threshold, "and drunk too. Why am I not surprised?"

England snorts, placing his half-full glass on the nightstand. "If I was smashed, you would most definitely know it, git, and do dry yourself off properly. You're dripping on the carpet."

"It's _my_ carpet."

America has a point but England ignores it, like he is trying to ignore his sodden and half-naked boyfriend approaching the bed. Liquid beads teasingly slide down the ex-colony's lightly-tanned skin, disappearing under the waistband of his stars-and-stripes swim trunks. Strands of light blond hair cling together from the moisture with a pair of goggles slung around his neck. The ex-empire tries not to openly stare at America and returns to his book, but he is caught red-handed by his lover.

"See something you like, Iggy~?" he smirks.

"N-No! You're imagining things!" England stutters, holding his book up to hide his forming blush. "Shouldn't you be downstairs entertaining your guests? They might begin to wonder where the birthday boy has gone."

America sighs and falls backwards on the mattress with arms spread out and legs dangling off the edge. "Nah, they're still a little pissed at me for gettin' them wet. Thought I'd lay low 'til dinner."

England rolls his eyes at the American's language butchering. "I don't see why you had to invite everyone, Alfred. I know at least half of them can't stand you and your heroics. They only came for the free food and alcohol."

"Low blow, dude," the younger blond pouts, "and why are you up here by yourself? You can at least make one appearance downstairs."

The shorter male glares. "I told you this already, Alfred. I agreed to come here provided that I didn't partake in any of your…festivities. Besides, I'd rather not see the bloody frog in a Speedo again."

The mattress creaks slightly when America leans up and starts bouncing. "Aww, come on! It's not a rockin' bash without you, Artie!"

"I said 'No'!"

He pouts even more. "Killjoy."

"Spoiled brat."

"Old man."

"Idiot hero."

"Stuffy Brit."

"Dumb blond."

"You're blond too!"

"So what? Since I said it, it doesn't count for me!"

"Says who?"

"Says me!" England snaps. "Now get out of my room, you twit!"

"Technically, it's _my_ room—"

"OUT!"

"Geez, fine."

America hops off the bed and shakes out his dripping hair, showering the Briton with chlorine water.

"What the—Alfred! You're getting water all over my book!"

The birthday boy only grins, leaning over until they were face-to-face. "Sorry, babe. I'll buy you a new one."

England scoffs, turning away. "Don't bother. You'll probably buy some New Age edition with crappy footnotes. This is an original first published copy, which White personally handed to me."

"Uh-huh, whatever you say. Now before I leave, how about a smooch~?"

"No. You disrupted my peace and quiet, now shoo."

"Just a tiny one? It is my birthday after all, and whatever I say goes."

England internally groans and places his book down on the mattress. "Only if it shuts you up for the rest of the day, brat."

The two nations inch closer until their lips brush. The kiss is slow and teasing until America places a hand behind his boyfriend's head and tilts it upwards, catching him in a full lip-lock. Tongues and teeth meet in a heated embrace, licking and nipping and biting every inch of skin. England moans when the American catches his bottom lip between his teeth and sucks. The younger male's lips taste of chlorine and mint while his older companion has the zest of brandy. They slowly pull away from the other in the need for air with only a thin line of saliva connecting their lips before breaking.

"Love you, Iggy," America smiles, tenderly gazing at the other nation.

England's cheeks tinge pink from those simple words. "I love you too, Alfred, and Happy Birthday."

"Al? Are you up there?" Canada's voice echoes up the stairs, interrupting the tender moment between lovers.

"Yeah! Whadya need, Mattie?" America calls back.

"Bruce began arguing with Gil and Yong Soo over the grilling rights, Mathias brought out his axe, and Vash started shooting. You better get down here before something gets destroyed!" his twin yells with a hint of worry mixed in.

Casting an apologetic look at the shorter male, America lightly pecks his former caretaker on the cheek and dashes out the door, spouting his usual words of heroism as he stomps down the stairs in excitement.

"Don't worry, Mattie! The hero is on his way~ Dumdumdum!"

England's mouth upturns in a small smile, retrieving the paperback next to him. He gets comfortable once again and flips the pages to where he left off.

"Two hundred and thirty-seven years old and you still act like a child," he chuckles.

* * *

During the evening, America sneaks away from the crowd and silently heads back to his boyfriend's room. With everyone preoccupied with the fireworks display set up beforehand, the birthday boy is _thoroughly_ enjoying England's generous gift to his heart's content.


End file.
